Saturday, June 25, 2016

NOW - A Haiku Magazine


A special one- time only edition of Tip of The Knife devoted to haiku (+/-).

“I went over to an old Chinese cook in the doorway of the kitchen and asked him “Why did Bodhidharma come from the West?” 

“I don’t care,” said the old cook.


Jack Kerouac, Dharma Bums

_____________________________________________________________________________


Nico Vassilakis

This position
Is never of my choosing
I am constantly responding
To what comes my way


A position
Will diminish after
Time


One position
Depends on 
The many before it
To survive


The position
Was so radical as to
Unravel the entire fabric
Of what came before


His position
Emanated from a center
No one could
Conceive of


That position
Is disreputable
And is unlikely
To find traction


These positions
Seem to constitute
An organized front


Her position
Distracted
The others


Their positions
Were designed
To keep them
In power





Andy DiMichele

I: pearl

this river is flow
flow is flowing, flowering
lotus unfolding


II.

fiat lux, abram
bereshit, abrahaM(oSh-
ox, goad, twenty-three


III.
vierge noire “hoo, hoo”
parzival  4:33
montserrat blank book


IV.
qibla qabala
mary poppins zeitgeist spoon
yetzirah yahrzeit


V.
pentagram. cube. bull.
ladder. i dream of sleeping.
gematri-         giraffe


VI.

fivefivefiveseven
sevensevensevenfive
fivesevenfiveodd


VII.
null pi qlipothel
ain sophia-shekinah
888  1 1


zimzumzimzumzim
zumzimzumzimzumzimtsum
tsimzumzaumzamzam





Karl Kempton



1 hand = !











1 moon sutra





















3 moon sutra










 4 moon sutra











5 moon sutra











haiku into mathemaku





Dale Jensen


i Would cATCH rat sweat
in THE glory of a jar
paradiSE ENough


geese twisting backwards
the sun is on upside down
it must be midnight


little cricket calls
its chiRps of EVOLUTION
against car traffic

siren two streets down
dog next door howling along
like a soul on fire


walking through the rain
people carry a doghouse
that’s missing a roof


fat woman in line
seething    automatic gun
tattooed on her arm





Judy Wells


Clothes of a writer—
   Ink marks on her blue nightgown
      right on her  left breast.


Sleeping with glasses
   on nose—forgotten? Or for
      clearer dream vision.

Dream

Bright computer screen
   says “Genealogy of Witches”
      Am I on the list?


Hot October days
   My room—wild animal smell—
      Who’s in there but me?


“Captain of My Soul”
   carved on wooden bench. I rest
      my back on “My Soul.”

     
 Rain drop on my lip—
   What miracle of sky brings
      on this small deluge?


I heard myself say
   “Five” as I turned over in
      my sleep. Damn haiku!





Crag Hill


















Mark Young


Some displaced geographies

Puberty kicks in, jogs
a mile & a half. That's a
Transformer reference.


To fill the Cathedral
with similes & metaphors—
fly fishing for salmon.


The organizing principle
is competition, not the
philosophy of mathematics.


Diagnostic equipment has
a feeling of remoteness
but without any expense.


A green man on a bi-
cycle, with a huge
body & tiny bungalow.


Unperturbed by the
lack of an erection, cows
crashed his pity party.





Dr. John M. Bennett


blood dog
bit off lunch
glass or glands
the time returns
boils off
hamster hamster


reflejo
behind the door a
drip .just one .an
.ant .searches . . .
.floor . . . .


economics
painted ,clustered
born to buy
baseless flame
yr empty throat
full ,an dry


would you
andamio
crumpled page
sun smeared
heard a step
uh clown arrives


long foam
key shade or's
dim yr
bulb inside the
fridge :la
peur la peur


is
frozen ddust
yr tires sleep
outside a cage
yr wrinkled fog





Matthew Stolte


Bottomless, spread-eagled on a mat
        madhouse patient jams my Bukowski book
into her vagina. 


Not purple, Spring flowers -
        a big can
on brown, roadside leaves.

  
The big metal mixing bowl
        we puked in, also
was used for popcorn & bread.

  
2 tiny flies treading wine -
        tread now in a spoon -
finally, Enjoy the sink ride!


The gypsy cut her wrists
        in the broken window crescent;
white blanket in the a.m. garbage orange.


Neighbors shouting at their dogs
        to be quiet
are much louder than the dogs.  





Leanne Bridgewater


This is “Do-ku”, a made up term by myself, which could be classed as instructional haiku, involving interpretative dance and physical movement: “being/acting' out the three lines, e.g. Unconsciousness could involve lying on the floor and Scarecrow could be produced by holding one's arms out, feeling lonely but in control (ready to scare off birds). Once you have figured out a movement for each line, repeat these movements over and over until the do-ku (haiku) becomes a dance routine. 

Scarecrow
turning into
astronaut


A reel of cotton
being pulled outwards
until no cotton is left on the reel


A robot
taking a seat
on the sofa


Your mother
crying
into a bottle of alcohol


A piece of clothing
scrunched up
on the floor


Do-ku is great to play with friends and family. Try creating your own dance routine of do-ku, and perhaps make a video of it for YouTube. Please share any results with me. Catch me on leannebridgewater@hotmail.co.uk


Hold this (if printed) far away and read.  If reading from the computer or a device,
move away from the screen. This is an eye test. Good luck.


Eyetest-ku


A E I O U
N S T R U Y M
Y X B U W


S E N S E
M N I L O U E
W Y U N Z M Y H O U

M Y H O U
S E I S A M L
P B U I N




David Baratier


Red headed Hellboy
a stranger hostess chirping
trogon warrior.


Swamp Thing took my boat
the orange one that hardly floats,
about in it, mucking.


House of Mystery
secret torture chambers are
waiting for ai yeeee


The Phantom Stranger
unburdens visiting house
refrigerator.


Gotham by gaslight
prostitutes beware Batman
signal glows nightly


Tomb of Dracula
quicker treatments for horses
the stakes of Coffin





Joel Chace


figures, at the end

pain starting again  --
step at a time in this fog  --
angle of riposte


morning of dark soil  --
strong wind above the highway  --
fill in those ovals


intelligent blur  --
they eat our shoes for supper  --
all quotients will fail

  
dutiful romance  --
just waiting for the rally  --
so, decide to swerve


three flies on our pane  --
now there’s always an odd light  --                          
figures, at the end 





Stephen Perkins     







Bill DiMichele


sarcophagus lid
sinks low above the treetops
wash it down with beer


when there is silence
when the stars have come around
when peaches ripen


sitting at pier 9
white city, misty morning
seagulls dive for crabs


it’s in her belly
the universal drama  
come to me, my tomb


dusty clocks ticking
a dark house facing the sea
splinter of a moon


ocean and mountains
cali morning, star jasmine
mexican breakfast


blackberry vapors
bright feathers of a dolphin
champagne white diamond


hummingbirds like harps
nearly weightless, wrapped in light
they’re drunk all the time


ultraviolet snake
peyote everlasting
forgive my silence


colored sails flutter
she looks down to the harbor
blinking in her robes


antiparticles
the word i saw in heaven
annihilation


tell all of my bones
that i am ready to die
perhaps to return